


Mating Habits of a Spacebound Omega

by BoxOnTheNile



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Blood Gulch Chronicles, Fade to Black, Lolix Fanclub Holiday Xchange, M/M, Minor trope subversion, brief mention of Flowers, i have Opinions on abo and i refuse to be stopped
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-10-02 13:44:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17265245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoxOnTheNile/pseuds/BoxOnTheNile
Summary: Church is the only fucking Omega in Blood Gulch.





	Mating Habits of a Spacebound Omega

**Author's Note:**

  * For [unknown20troper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknown20troper/gifts).



> So my discord server did a Secret Santa and we finally get to post our entries! Here you go Temple, thank you for bearing with my pestering and also for giving me the chance to write Churboose for the first time.
> 
> GIANT shoutout to confessionforanothertime for the beta and the title ilu fancy.

Church is the only fucking Omega in Blood Gulch.

Okay, so, technically, one of the Reds could be, but they're _Reds_ , so they don't count. Church is the only fucking Omega in Blood Gulch, and he fucking hates it.

His stomach turns sharply, and he vomits into the toilet. 

“Private Church?” Flowers calls from outside the locked bathroom door. Church's face flushes, a hormonal response to the Alpha’s presence, but instead of arousal, he just feels more nauseated. 

Heats are the fucking worst for all Omegas, and Church is part of the small percentage that gets sick. He thinks it's always been like that, but some part of him thinks that's not quite right. 

The rest of him is too fevered and aching to care.

“Private?”

He presses his cheek to the cool cement of the bathroom floor. “Go away.”

“Would one of my shirts make you more relaxed?”

Church twitches. He’s pretty sure Flowers isn’t creepy on purpose, but it’s still unsettling. “No. Leave.” He hears footsteps fade out down the hall and vomits again.

 

* * *

 

The next heat, Flowers isn't there, ~~is dead~~ , and it's so much worse. Church shakes, stomach cramping, while Tucker coaxes sips of cold water into him.

Church is curled up on the bathroom floor at the end of the worst of it, head in Tucker's lap while the Beta runs his fingers through his sweaty hair. “This is wrong.”

“The heat, or me helping you?” Tucker asks. “Because I didn't expect you to be a traditionalist, Church.”

“If you were an Alpha, you wouldn't be touching me,” Church counters. “The heat.”

“I dunno, dude. This shit isn't common, but it still happens. It's normal for some Omegas, right?”

“Not me,” Church says immediately, but, isn't it? He remembers dealing with this before, but the memory is strangely distant. “Maybe?”

“Maybe?” Tucker echoes. “Should we, I dunno, call a doctor?” 

For a moment, Church considers it, but what would he say? ‘Yes, my heats make me sick and I remember it always being like that except that feels incorrect. No, it's not dangerous, just inconvenient.’ Yeah, _perfect_.

“No,” he says. “Forget it. The ice chips are melted.”

Tucker swears, then dips his hand in the water, and presses his cold fingers to Church's fevered face.

 

* * *

 

The rookie is an Alpha, of course, and he fucking kickstarts Church’s next heat. Two weeks before he should be, Church is camped out on the bathroom floor again, listening to Tucker yell at Caboose about… something. There's two concrete walls between the base’s bathroom and the kitchen. 

He flings himself at the toilet during a particularly bad wave of nausea, barely noticing when a broad, warm hand smooths down his spine halfway through. He glances behind him to tell Tucker to bring him more water and freezes when he realizes _it's not Tucker_.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he blurts, and Caboose smiles brightly.

“Tucker said he had to go yell at the Reds for trying to shoot at us while you were sick and that I should bring you water and soup, but when I came to get your cup, you were throwing up, and I thought you might like a friend.” He shrugs. “I have a sister that gets sick, too. Being near her helped.”

That makes sense: any Alpha will ease heat symptoms. Instinct views siblings as protectors, while others are possible mates. Already, the nausea is easing, and while Church is still too uncomfortable to be turned on, his hormones are making a valiant effort. 

Now should be the time Church throws Caboose out on his ass, but the rookie is so goddamn non-threatening. Church knows, somehow, that Caboose won't do anything Church doesn't invite.

“My cup is still empty,” Church says after a moment, and Caboose scrambles for it, hopping to his feet and promising to be right back. 

He loans Church a shirt that night, the fabric scent marked, and the arousal hits hard. Church fucks himself on his fingers and imagines taking Caboose's knot.

_Aw, shit. He's got a crush on the fucking rookie._

 

* * *

 

Church has never been courted before, he doesn't think. His memories go weird and hazy in some places, but he's pretty sure no one has ever _wooed_ him before. 

Even Tex hadn't _courted_ , not like this. 

Small snacks, normally jealously guarded, left in Church's room. Gentle, casual touches. A nest built in the rec room with the fucking _flag._

Tucker thinks it's hilarious. 

“Stop that,” Church chides. Tucker laughs harder. “It's not fucking funny!”

“Then tell him to stop,” Tucker says. Church scowls from his nest. His last heat is winding down, but he's still too anxious to leave the pile of blankets he's pulled into the corner of his room. “Yeah, knew it. You don't want him to.”

“I don't see how that's any of your fucking business,” Church snaps.

“It's my business because I need to know when to get the fuck out of the base so you can sit on his knot.”

Church chucks a pillow at him, but the image is in his head now: straddling Caboose's hips, his knot pressing deep and perfect while the Alpha under him tries so hard to keep still and be good.

Church doesn't realize he's whining until Tucker crosses the room to his side. “Touch or no touch?” he asks, hand hovering over Church’s shoulder. Church shakes his head. He wants to be fucked, not touched, and Tucker doesn't have the pheromones to help.

“Do… do you want Caboose?”

Does he? Church is pretty sure that whatever he had with Tex is over, with murder of his friend and all, and the rookie is sweet in a way Church has never seen. He's gentle and respectful, and Church’s heat is close enough to over that he can actually make a rational decision. 

“Yeah,” Church says. “Shit, dammit, yeah.”

“Do you need, like, condoms? I think I have some.”

Church nods. “Please. _Shit_ , I'm sorry.”

“It's cool, dude.” Tucker goes to nudge him, but stops himself. “My high school boyfriend was an Omega, I get it.” He climbs to his feet. “I'll talk to the rookie. If he's not up for it, I'll swing back and let you know.”

It takes ten minutes for the door to his room to open again, and Church knows what the choice was. He smells dust and rain and feels punched in the gut.

“Church?” 

“Caboose,” Church sighs. Tension coils in his gut, but he shakes his head to clear it. This isn't a ‘yes’, not yet.

Caboose comes into the room slowly, keeping the bed between him and Church’s nest in the far corner. “Are you sure?” He sounds so serious, and _shit_ , Church made a good choice. Most Alphas wouldn’t double check like this. 

“We’re not bonding,” Church says. Caboose nods. “And if you bite me, I’ll fucking shoot you.”

“Okay,” Caboose agrees. “Can I kiss you?”

“Fuck, rookie, _yes,_ now get over here.”

Caboose vaults the fucking bed, dropping to his knees outside of Church’s nest, and Church drags him into a kiss. He wants it to be hot and hard but Caboose just cups his jaw, slows him down until the kiss is almost sweet. 

Church’s pants are gonna be ruined.

He breaks the kiss and grabs the hem of Caboose’s shirt, pulling it up and throwing it to the side. Caboose splays his hands over Church’s hips, big and warm and impossibly strong and a whine builds in Church’s throat. He refuses to give it voice, but his hips buck and give him away anyway. 

Caboose kisses down his neck and Church tenses, waiting for the bite and the claim and the inevitable kicking the rookie in the balls, but it never comes. Caboose keeps his teeth in check, and when he finally pulls away to peel Church out of his sweaty shirt, Church is more turned on than he’s ever been in his _life_. 

He flips them, pinning Caboose under him, and, _oh_.

He has the best goddamn ideas.

 

* * *

 

The second to last thought the Alpha ever has is _“my name is so fucking ironic and I hate it.”_

The last thought is _“I should have let Caboose bond me.”_


End file.
